


While We're Sleeping All The Streets, They Rearrange

by redsteele



Series: We're Not a Team (We're a Tragedy) [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes is not okay, Captain America Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, I am very mean to Steve, Just assume no one is okay, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers Is Not Okay, Winter Soldier Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:16:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsteele/pseuds/redsteele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barnes gave a puff of laughter through the receiver and Tony was almost offended. “Actually, I need you to help a friend of mine.”</p><p>Never let it be said that Tony Stark was heartless. If there was a deadly assassin friend of Captain America’s in need, who was he to turn them away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Second fic in my We're Not a Team (We're a Tragedy) series. I recommend reading the first one, Empty Space, before this one.  
> Title from Suburban War by the Arctic Monkeys  
> I used google translate for the Russain so the accuracy is questionable. Feel free to correct any mistakes I've made.  
> No beta so all mistakes are my own.
> 
>  
> 
> I have so much planned for this AU, I'm so excited. I have about another 5000 words already written for this fic, and counting, so expect consistent updates!

Tony was thoroughly engrossed in his work. He had about fifteen separate files up in front of him and he flicked through all of them. He went back and forth between them trying to gather up as much information as he could. He should probably check on Barnes and Romanoff at some point, considering it’s all the information they dumped online that he was working through. He should probably call them and see if they’re okay, or something. Is that what people did after someone they don’t really know well but saved the world with brought down an evil century old Nazi organization that was growing in one of the world’s largest spy networks? Tony wasn’t sure, maybe he should ask Pepper. She would probably know, she knew everything.

If he was being honest with himself, and he really was trying to do that more, the _real_ reason he hadn’t called or texted or whatever was because he was a little bit insulted by the fact no one had come to him for help. He never trusted SHIELD, he was good with computers, and last time he checked he wasn’t a Nazi, so he figured he might’ve been able to contribute something. Even when Barnes was trying to track down the evil HYDRA assassin that had almost killed him, he hadn’t gotten a single call. He supposed it wasn’t quite fair to be resentful since he had gone through the whole Mandarin fiasco without asking anyone for help, but he was honest enough to admit he was a hypocrite.

Bruce suggested he just get over it and call them already, but he was too busy with reading up on the classified files about his teammates, as well as various other nefarious projects SHIELD (or was it HYDRA?) had going on. He wasn’t quite sure how long he had been down in his lab, much less how long it had been since he’d eaten, drank, or slept, but he was sure it was long enough that Pepper would be disappointed in him. He was working on it, really.

“Sir,” Jarvis interrupted his train of thought. “Captain Barnes is on the line, shall I patch him through?”

Tony raised a single eyebrow in surprise. He couldn’t think of anything he had done recently that insulted Truth, Justice, and the American Way (not that Barnes seemed to _really_ care about any of that, despite his title) so he wasn’t sure what the occasion for a call was.

“Sure, J, put him on.”

He waved his hand to make the files he was reading flicker off screen as Barnes’ number came on-screen.

“Cap, long time no see! A guy could be offended when someone takes down his favorite morally-dubious spy organization without him, but you’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

“Stark, sorry this is sudden, I know, but I need your help,” Barnes sounded tired, but chasing a highly skilled assassin halfway across the world will do that to a guy.

“What do you need? Are you still trying to catch the nefarious villain who brought you down even after you saved the world? Because I gotta say, I’ve been busy so I don’t know if I can spare the time to track him,” which was a complete lie, because since those files went public he’d been in his workshop reading them until Pepper forced him upstairs and he passed out. Rinse, and repeat.

“No, no I’m fine on that front,” Barnes gave a puff of laughter through the receiver and Tony was almost offended. “Actually, I need you to help a friend of mine.”

“Well, any friend of Captain America is a friend of mine, I always say. What can I do for you?” because of course Cap wouldn’t call because _he_ needed help, he’d call because someone else did.

“Well, there’s a lot of things, but I think the most immediate is the fact that his arm keeps sparking up,” Barnes said as if it was a casual thing.

“Wait, arm keeps sparking? I feel like that’s a medical thing, and I may know enough to be a doctor I still don’t technically have the title so-“

“No! His, uh, metal arm. He has a metal arm,” and wasn’t that the best thing he’d heard all day. But wait-

“Didn’t your dear assassin friend have a metal arm? You know, the one who tried to kill you on multiple occasions and you’re on a mission to bring down?” Tony admired the guy, because Captain America, _duh,_ but that seemed like a sudden change of heart.

“I’ll explain everything when we get there, I just really need your help right now. I’ll owe you one, Stark.”

Never let it be said that Tony Stark was heartless. If there was a deadly assassin friend of Captain America’s in need, who was he to turn them away? Plus, ever since he had seen the footage of the Winter Soldier and Captain America fighting in the street he had been itching to get his hands on that piece of technology.

“Sure, Cap. Just swing by the tower, I’ll have Jarvis bring you straight down to the workshop and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Tony,” the relief was audible in the Captain’s voice. Then he hung up without saying goodbye, which was slightly rude, but Tony supposed he could let it pass this time. The man was bringing him a robotic arm, after all.

He swiveled around in his chair. “Alright Jarvis, get everything we have on the Winter Soldier and show me what we’re dealing with.”

 

*********

 

“Sir, Captain Barnes and his guest are on their way down,” Jarvis told him as he went over what little HYDRA had on file about the Winter Soldier’s arm. He had Jarvis go through the rest of it for anything relevant but his AI hadn’t found anything useful.

“Great,” he said, twisting around to face the elevator entrance and clasping his hands together. “Did you scan the arm?”

“Yes, but I suggest a more thorough one once they are present.”

“Pull up what you got, we’ll scan him again later.”

He leans forward to inspect the data when the elevator doors opened.

Barnes looked okay, a little rough around the edges, but over all not too bad. He had some bruises on his face that didn’t look _too_ fresh (but with the serum it was hard to be sure) and his hair looked a bit singed at the edges, but otherwise he didn’t look too bad. It was the other man that shocked him.

To be, honest, he wasn’t sure “man” was the right term. He looked like a _kid_. He had seen the footage, he knew the Winter Soldier was small, but it the shaky phone cameras and security footage hadn’t shown anything like this. The kid barely came up to Barnes’ shoulder and was skinnier than a stick. Tony had seen supermodels with more meat on them than that kid, no joke. He was pale and gaunt and hunched in on himself as if he was trying to disappear, and was doing a pretty damn good job at it. He was wearing a pair of ratty sweatpants that most definitely did not belong to him, the drawstrings were pulled tight and the bottoms were rolled up as if they had been dragging on the ground. He was barefoot for some reason, which Tony was a tad bit confused about, but didn’t really question it. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt that looks like it would come to his knees it weren’t for the fact that it was cut by what looked like a knife to actually fit. He had on an (also oversized) sweatshirt that seemed to swallow him whole. His hands were tucked in his pockets, the sleeves practically engulfing his probably tiny arms, and his head was ducked down so his limp hair was covering his eyes.

Tony was honestly lost for words at the disheveled appearance of the pair and the way Barnes hovered around the kid, slowly dropping his knees so he could be at eye level and whispering something.

Whatever he said must’ve been the right thing because the kid nodded and Barnes gave him a smile that Tony had _never_ seen on his face before. The taller man straightened and seemed to corral the kid out of the elevator without actually touching him. The kid shuffled out, but the tension in his hunched shoulders seemed to only get worse.

“Thanks again, Stark. I know it was kinda sudden and-“

Tony cut off his apologies with a wave of his hand as he stood up. “You wouldn’t be here if it was a problem, now come let me see what the problem is. Here, he can take the chair and I’ll go get my stuff.”

He didn’t give Barnes a chance to reply before walking to the metal table a few feet away and gathering up various tools he may need. He turned around to see the kid robotically taking off his sweatshirt and _holy_ _shit_ that kid needed some cheeseburgers, pronto. However skinny Tony thought he might be under his loose-fitting clothing he was even more so. In fact, now that he could see the metal arm, it was almost laughably out of proportion with the rest of his body.

The kid went to remove his shirt, but moving his metal arm only caused a high-pitched grinding noise and golden sparks to flash as the metal plates moved. God, that had to be painful, but the kid didn’t even flinch. Maybe there was no connection to his nervous system?

Tony, silent for once in his life, brought the rest of his tools next to the chair while pointedly _not_ looking at the kid’s dangerously concave stomach, until he realized something was wrong. They kid’s body was shaking uncontrollably as he stood in front of the chair, looking at it as if was about to swallow him whole. His breaths were quick and shallow.

Now, Tony was no expert, but he knew something about trauma. Barnes was carefully approaching and his expression was a mix between wanting to wrap the kid up like a stray kitten and having the urge to violently rip someone apart. It hit Tony then that whatever he thought he knew about the situation with Barnes and the Winter Soldier was completely wrong, and he was completely out of his comfort zone with this.

Before Barnes could start comforting the kid Tony started talking.

“You know, that chair is uncomfortable as hell. Don’t bother sitting, we’re gonna do this on the couch.”

The kid blinked out of his daze. He turned his head toward Tony and looked extremely confused but followed them to the couch anyway. Barnes shot him a very grateful look.

“So, I’m gonna have you do a few movement exercises and the such while Jarvis is scanning, but if something hurts tell me because we need to figure out what’s wrong. That sound good?” he looked at the kid expectantly and waited for an answer, but all he did was furrow his brows as if he didn’t understand. Tony glanced at Barnes, who he honestly had expected to be talking more, but he had that semi-murderous look on his face again. Tony had a feel that there was a big point he was completely, or maybe a telepathic conversation he wasn’t part of. He just went back to work.

“Can you bend it like this?” he asked as he demonstrated with his own arm and the kid copied. As motors shifted sparks flew and a horrible grinding noise came from it. The kid didn’t even blink so Tony prayed that he had no sensation from it.

He walked the kid through a few more movements, each looking and sounding painful, but none of them elicited any sort of reaction, unless you counted Barnes’ flinching.

After looking through the data Jarvis had been feeding him Tony turned back to his patient.

“I’m gonna need a look inside, do you know how to access the control panel?” before he even finished his question long, slender fingers were digging between metal plates and prying it open.

“Alright,” Tony breathed, looking at the wires and switched spread throughout the small space. “What can you tell me about how it works?”

The kid started talking in a quiet, monotone voice that was way too deep for someone his size. “Auto-recalibration malfunction. Time since last manual recalibration, 92 days and seven hours. Vials One and Two require refilling. Mobility and performance below optimum capacity.”

Tony closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted backwards from five. “What vials?” he asked, because that didn’t quite seem like something that normally belongs in a robotic arm. The kid opened another panel, wider than the first and a lot closer to his shoulder (which Tony had also been avoiding looking at because the scarring was horrible and it reminded him all too well of his own experiences). Inside were three flasks attached to tubes that seemed to run to his side. The top one had barely any liquid in it, the middle one empty, and the bottom one completely full.

“Vial One, emergency corticosteroid injection in case of lung malfunction,” Barnes gave a sharp intake of breath as if that sentence had physically pained him. He was ignored.

“Last injection, twenty-three minutes ago. Vial Two, vitamin B12 injection. Three weeks since last injection. Below optimum performance and consistent malfunctions have occured.”

Tony had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the arm.

“Vial Three, emergency sedation. Remotely activated by Level Six handler and above. Currently at full capacity.”

God, Tony felt like he was going to puke. This was just Fuck Up, emphasis of F and U to the people who had done this. With the way the kid talked about himself as if he was a fucking machine, it was no wonder Barnes seemed so protective. Tony himself was beginning to get the urge to wrap this kid up in like every blanket he owned and force feed him steaks until the end of time.

Now, Tony may not have had the most social grace in the word, but he did have tact, in certain situations and in very small doses. This was one of those times. Normally he would be talking his ass off just for the sake of _saying_ something but he honestly wasn’t sure he could say anything beyond _what the fuck_ and _holy shit_ at the moment, and he felt like those two expressions would not be particularly appreciated. So he shut his mouth and went to work. Pepper would be so proud.

 

He’d probably been working for half an hour in relative silence. Jarvis was playing music (some Judas Priest because it helped him concentrate), he had a screwdriver in his hand and another between his teeth, and Barnes had taken to sitting next to the kid and trying to act like he wasn’t staring.

The kid had been stock still the whole time, not moving an inch unless asked to. He was staring down at the arm with some detached interest but so far hadn’t made any sort of significant gesture to relay discomfort, or really any sort of sensation.

Tony had managed to dismantle another metal plate so the arm was nearly completely exposed, just wires and gears.

The moment the silver plate came off of the arm everything started moving. Metal shifted, there were more sparks, and _oh shit that’s not good_.

The third vial, remotely activated sedation if her remembered correctly (and he did), was being emptied. Like a syringe, it got injected into the kid’s veins and he tensed up, sensing a foreign substance in his body. He brought his head up to look at Tony for a moment with wide, terrified eyes, before they rolled back and he collapsed.

“Steve?” Barnes frantically called, propping the kid up. “Steve? What the hell happened?” he twisted to look at Tony with a mixture of righteous anger and fear.

“He said it was remote activation, I didn’t know it would do that. It must be a built-in defense mechanism of sorts,” he explained quickly, not really wanting Captain America to hit him (because Barnes definitely looked like he was considering it).

“Steve?” Barnes asked again, slightly jostling the kid (who must have been Steve, when Tony thought about it) before rubbing his hands over his face.

“This might actually be a good thing,” he said as delicately as he could to the worn-down super soldier. “You look like shit. I can send a sample of the sedative to Bruce so we can find out how long it’ll last and whatever it may do, and you can explain to me what the hell has been going on,” he gave a general sweeping motion to the unconscious assassin in front of them, “and maybe eat something. Jarvis? Order some Pad Thai from that place Pepper likes. Order two of like, everything.”

He looked back down at the Captain. “Come on, Barnes, Jarvis’ll tell us if he so much as sniffles. I would continue, but I really don’t know if I wanna do that while he’s unconscious.”

Barnes nodded and stood, stretching out his back as he did. “You’re right, and I’m hungry anyway. Even if I could wake him up, I don’t think I would want to. I have no idea when the last time he slept was,” Tony held back the temptation to ask when the last time _he_ slept was.

“See? Good things, all around. Now come on,” he swung an arm around Barnes’ extremely muscled shoulder, “we’ve got food to eat.”

Barnes just nodded distractedly and kept glancing back at the kid and Tony led them out of the workshop.

“So,” he said once they had reached the elevators. “Tell me about short, blond, and dangerous.”

Barnes gave a sigh as if he knew the conversation was coming but he didn’t really feel like having it. “You know what happened in DC?”

“Cap, everyone and their mother know what happened in DC. It’s like the opposite of Vegas, the anti-Vegas. What happened in DC did not stay in DC,” Barnes gave him an odd look that said he had no idea what Tony was talking about it but didn’t have the patience to ask.

“Remember before the chitauri and New York and all that shit what you said everything special about me came out of a bottle?” and wow was that a subject change Tony was not expecting at all. He wasn’t proud of that moment, even knowing Loki’s mojo-staff had been messing with their heads.

“Vaguely,” he deflected waving it off.

“I never got the serum,” Barnes admitted and Tony was extremely lost. “At least, not the one Erskine made. I got some knock-off from HYDRA when my unit got captured.”

It was common knowledge that Captain America got captured by HYDRA in ’43, you could read that in any elementary school textbook. Captain, though at the time Sergeant, Barnes was captured with the whole 107th and forced to build bombs for the Nazis. That was where he met the other five Howling Commandos. He single-handedly managed to break out and free over a hundred prisoners, and they walked from Austria to the SSR base where he then was immediately promoted and given the title of Captain America, originally a marketing ploy by the government, but came to life through Barnes’ actions.

“Steve, the Winter Soldier, I guess he would be known as know,” Barnes made an abortive motion downwards where the workshop said Soldier was resting in was. “He was the one to get the real serum. He did the USO tours, too, after Erskine got shot. I never met the man, but Steve had a high opinion of him,” he gave a bitter laugh.

“So you’re telling me that you’re like, Captain America 2.0 and no one ever knew?” Tony asked, if only to say something, anything, as his thoughts raced.

“No, it was never like that. Steve, he was the one who got me and the 107th out of Azzano. He went on a one-man suicide mission to storm a HYDRA base with minimal training and no backup, no entry plan and even less of an exit plan. He led the Commandos, too. He _was_ Captain America, in a way. Defintely the Captain part, tat was his real title, but,” he paused a moment to take a shaky breath as if it physically pained him to think about it. “There was a mission in ’45. To capture Zola, the HYDRA nutjob who experimented on me. The plan was to use a zipline from a cliff face to land on a moving train,” a wry smile appeared on his face. “That part went fine. We landed, Steve running the mission as always. But then some HYDRA bastard blew a hole in the side of the train. I almost fell, but Steve caught me. He didn’t make it.”

Barnes shook his shoulders out as if to dispel the memory. “Carter got rid of Steve’s files when she made SHIELD. When Captain America went public, it was me instead of him. After all he did,” he clenched his fists at his sides, “I couldn’t stand to have him get turned into some symbol for some damn agenda.”

“So according to every file with that had his name on it, you were the one that was there, not him,” Tony finished.

“According to his official record, Steve Rogers died of pneumonia in 1945. But he didn’t. When he fell, he survived and HYDRA got to ‘im before anyone else could. They managed to take away parts of serum, the parts that made him big and cured all his medical shit but kept the strength and some of the healing, apparently. They brainwashed him and kept him in cryo for seventy years, and-“ he cut himself off to take deep breaths. He looked down at his hands to see they were shaking.

Tony wasn’t sure what to do. This was way above his pay grade. Brainwashed assassin with a metal arm, sure, maybe he could work with that. Even knowing all the horrible shit that happened to get him there, he could probably handle it. But an emotionally compromised Captain America? His expertise did not lie in consolation or problem solving. He tended to solve his problems through ignorance, alcohol, and burying himself in his work. Somehow, he had a feeling that wasn’t quite what Cap needed.

Against every instinct he had, he found his hand reaching out to pat Barnes on the shoulder. His lifted up and he looked at Tony, surprised, but Tony just shrugged and took his hand away because this was one of the most awkward moments of his life. Bruce would probably say it’s progress.

“So you need to help you’re old war buddy? Makes sense,” he said to break the tension.

“Something like that,” Barnes gave a wry smile and stepped out as the elevator doors opened. Tony followed

They were on the Common Floor, the place meant for socialization and avoiding responsibilities when Tony was planning to invite all the Avengers to stay in the newly christened Avengers Tower. He had yet to do so, but with most of them having lost their current forms of employment he figured me may have a chance. Sitting on the dining room table were about forty different boxes and Tony thanked whoever invented takeout. They deserved a sainthood.

After telling Jarvis to run all the biological data he had found, as well as a sample of the sedative, to Bruce, they began to eat. Tony rambled on about everything that had happened since Barnes and him had last met, which was actually quite a bit when he thought about it, to fill the silence. He could do one-sided conversations.

“Captain Barnes, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry to interrupt but Captain Rogers seems to be in a state of distress,” Jarvis interrupted in the middle of Tony talking about how he blew up all his Iron Man suits.

Barnes shot up, food forgotten, and sprinted to the elevator. Tony barely managed to make it in before the doors closed, but he appreciated the sense of urgency. He wasn’t quite sure what Rogers’ current state of mind was, no matter who he used to be. No matter what, he was still dangerous and if he woke up without knowing where he was there was no telling what he would do.

Luckily, Tony’s worries were unfounded because Rogers was still unconscious when they got there. He was laying down on his side, right where they had left him. He wondered for a moment whether Jarvis was mistaken, until he got closer.

He was shuddering uncontrollably, curled in on himself. He was saying something Tony didn’t understand but sounded Russian, or some similar language. At first it was quiet, barely even whispers, until his voice got louder and louder and he was suddenly screaming, his body thrashing and convulsing as he was attacked by something only he could see.

“Steve!” Barnes was there before Tony could even blink, pinning down his arms so he couldn’t hurt himself. Rogers was still screaming.

Suddenly it stopped and he was talking, babbling, really, in Russian again.

“Jarvis, I want a translation of everything he’s saying,” Tony ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis answered and a blue pop up appeared in front of him to translate everything Rogers cried but he ignored it, for now. He could go back through it later.

“Is this a reaction with the sedative?” he asked, knowing Jarvis had been monitoring his vitals. Surprisingly, Barnes was the one who answered.

“No, he gets like this sometimes, whenever he tries to sleep,” he said as he released his grip on the smaller man’s arms and pulled his head into his lap. “He’ll wake up soon, but it probably won’t be pretty.”

Tony only grimaced and turned to the stream of words Jarvis was giving him.

 

**Please, please no. Please stop I didn’t mean to. I promise. I don’t know.**

**I won’t do it again. I know. I know you don’t.**

**No, no please don’t.**

He stopped looking after realizing the rest went pretty much the same. He felt sick.

He turned back to Barnes in time to see Rogers shoot straight up from his lap, eyes wide still speaking in Russian.

“Steve,” Barnes makes a very slow, telegraphed movement to try to pacify the panicked assassin, but he flinched away, scrambling to the other side of the couch. Tony could see each individual rib in his chest as they expanded and contracted, quick and panicked.

“Steve,” Barnes said again. He stayed where he was and put his hands in the open in a pacifying gesturing. “You’re in New York. It’s 2014. They don’t have you anymore.”

“Где я?” he demanded as his eyes wildly flew across the room.“It’s Bucky, remember? James Barnes?” Cap said and Tony’s eyebrows flew up because what the hell kind of name is ‘Bucky’?“Captain Barnes, James. Alias: Captain America. Known affiliates: SHIELD, the Avengers. Status: target. Mission failed,” Rogers rushed it all out. It was as if keeping it in his head any longer would actually cause some sort of pain.“No, Steve, it’s Bucky,” Barnes tried again, but Rogers’ eyes fell on Tony and he started speaking again.“Stark, Anthony. Alias: Iron Man. Known affiliates: Stark Industries, SHIELD, the Avengers, US military. Status: kill on sight, do not pursue. Stark, Howard and Maria. Known affiliates: SHIELD, SSR, US military, Stark Industries. Status: terminated, Mission complete.”“Steve-“  
“Mission failed, maintenance required,” he started muttering over and over again. His hands were digging into the back on his neck as if to protect him from something, or hold him together. It had to be bruising with how pale he was. Hell, the metal arm could break his spine with the pressure he was putting on it.

“Barnes, he’s going to hurt himself,” Tony said. Barnes nodded white as a sheet.

“Отойди, солдат“ this time the words came from Barnes and the Soldier immediately collapsed.

“I’m sorry,” Barnes whispered, repeating it as he uncurled Rogers from his protective ball. “I’m so sorry,” as if words could wash away the decades of pain the man had gone through.

“How long will that last?” Tony choked out. He always suspected that his parents death was foul play, but he hadn’t gathered up the courage to dig through the SHIELD records and find out. He guessed he didn’t have to anymore.

“Forty eight hours. Natasha taught me it, in case something happened,” Cap was pale and his hands were trembling slightly. He laid the soldier down and delicately pressed his hand to his forehead, as if checking his temperature. He shook his head slightly and withdrew it. “I had hoped I wouldn’t need it, but…” he shrugged as if this was a daily thing, as if he wasn’t visibly shaken by what just happened.

Tony knew he was.

“Jarvis, go through that translation and tell me if you find anything useful,” he ordered because this was something he _could_ control, this was his workshop and his tower.“Alright, Barnes,” he went and pulled a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses out of a cupboard and brought up a chair. He did not want to have this conversation fully sober. “How much do you know about what happened to him?”

 

It wasn’t a lot to be honest. Just what Barnes had pieced together from the file Romanoff had given him and what he’d found from HYDRA bases on his world-wide wild goose chase.

Tony wouldn’t say he felt better after Cap’s explanation, per say, but everything made a lot more sense. The Story of Steve Rogers was long and tragic. It would make a great lifetime movie, if it weren’t for all the murder and death. It made sense how protective Barnes was once he heard the whole thing. A kid that sickly (and that scrappy) being your best friend? Sounds like a stress ulcer waiting to happen. That joke was probably in bad taste, considering ulcers were amongst Rogers’ list of ailments.

The only thing that left him less-than fulfilled (other than the fact that he might just join Barnes’ manhunt on HYDRA because those fucked up assholes deserve it) is how little everyone really knew about what happened to Steve (so he started calling Rogers Steve in his head, sue him. With how much Barnes talked about the guy he felt he had some right to familiarity).

“Barnes, and you should be flattered because this very rarely happens, but I’m going extend my very charitable hand and offer for you and freezer-burn to stay at my humble abode. Remember, I’m a very generous man, so this is a great honor for you. Also, you have your own floor. You should also be thankful that I planned ahead for future Avengers-level emergencies when redesigning the Tower,” because Tony may have been feeling sympathetic but he still had no tact.

This was why it was so shocking when Barnes put a hand on his shoulder and lightly squeezed. “Thank you, Tony. I honestly can’t thank you enough for helping me, for helping _him_ , right now. It means a lot.”

He was honestly speechless because out of all things he had expected, a grand speech of thanks was the last of them. The reason he phrased it like he was an asshole was to _avoid_ things like.

“Don’t thank me, just doing my civic duty to help Captain America and co. in their time of need,” he waved it off as if it was nothing. His eight-year old self would be crying from joy of the moment he just had, but his much older, wiser, and handsomer self was no such person.

Barnes picked up Steve (bridal-style, he took note) and turned to Tony.

“So, what did you say about a floor?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony didn’t feel bad about his offer, honestly. He didn’t want to take it back at all; he just wished he had put more thought into it. At least, he wished somebody would have warned him that when he invited the Ambiguously Gay Duo (as he had occasionally dubbed them in his mind) to stay in his home, he had been inviting the whole cavalry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony puts up with so much shit  
> wooo! it's the next chapter already!!  
> No beta, all mistakes are my own.  
> the russain is pulled from google translate so it may not be accurate.

Tony didn’t feel bad about his offer, honestly. He didn’t want to take it back at all; he just wished he had put more thought into it. At least, he wished somebody would have warned him that when he invited the Ambiguously Gay Duo (as he had occasionally dubbed them in his mind) to stay in his home, he had been inviting the whole cavalry.  
The morning after his and Barnes’ sleepover party, Romanoff appeared sitting on his counter and filing her nails with a penknife. This was a strange juxtaposition to the pale green sundress and pink sweater she was wearing, but he was not going to be the one to judge her fashion choices.   
“How did you get in here?” he asked after pouring himself and her a cup of copy, because he was nothing if not hospitable.  
“Barton let me in,” she said as she slid the knife into her sleeve and took a delicate sip.  
“Barton’s not here.”  
Something dropped right next to him in the next moment. “Hi Stark.”  
Tony was not proud of the sound he made as he jumped, splashing himself with hot coffee.  
“How the hell did you get in here, then? And where did you even come from?” he demanded, attempting to save his shirt from the inevitable permanent coffee stain.  
Barton just shrugged and commandeered the sofa, remote, and television.  
Tony was just left to stand and stare as the nefarious Black Widow went to join Hawkeye, world-famous spy and sharp-shooter, on the couch to watch Dog Cops. He hadn’t known the watching of juvenile television could be quite so menacing, but he did now.  
It’s not like he had a problem with the sudden occupancy of his living space, really. He had actually been trying to get the entire superhero club together for a while, and what better occasion than rehabilitating Captain America’s favorite assassin? It was when the people he didn’t know started showing up that he started having a problem.  
“Who the hell are you?” he asked as a vaguely familiar black man walked into his kitchen while he was not-so secretly attempting to sneak bites of Bruce’s homemade tofu-and-curry concoction of gloriousness.  
“Sam Wilson. Where’s Barnes?”  
Ah, Wilson. Dubbed “The Falcon” by the media after joining Barnes and Romanoff on their stint as America’s Most Wanted. He had also designed the man’s wings, but never had the chance to meet him in person.  
There was a text notification alert, Wilson glanced at his phone, then looked back at Tony.  
“Never mind, I got it. Thanks, though,” and with that he walked back into the elevator, presumably to Barnes’ floor.  
Tony put Bruce’s curry back into the fridge and felt slightly ashamed of his actions. He also wondered what the hell was going on with his life.

He wasn’t sure what he originally had in mind when he put space for all the Avengers in the Tower, but it sure wasn’t this. The Earth’s Mightiest Heroes were surprisingly domestic. Barton or Wilson (who just kind of moved in on Barnes’ floor without any real discussion, but who was Tony to judge) would make breakfast semi-early and one by one throughout the mornings various residents ate it. Barnes would always bring his plate upstairs, along with one extra for his houseguest. You could find someone in the common area at any given time, whether it was Bruce reading, Barton watching TV, or Romanoff doing whatever she did on her phone. Probably blackmail people, or dismantle small governments.   
No one had seen a lot of Barnes over that time because he was going between his floor, going with Wilson and/or Romanoff to bring down HYDRA bases, go running, or do the general team leader/making sure they haven’t killed each other yet thing.  
In fact, the most exciting thing to happen was when Wilson and Barton got into an intense game of Wii Bowling (and boy was that fucking terrifying. Two full-grown men should not be that serious when playing a sports simulator). They were literally grappling with each other.   
Barton had stolen Wilson’s Wii remote and refused to return it, leading to Wilson tackling Barton, leading to Tony’s favorite coffee table getting smashed to pieces. He was about eighty percent sure he could hear Romanoff encouraging them when the elevator doors dinged. Everyone froze and looked up. Inside stood Bruce, who seemed to consider exiting, but then surveyed the scene and just stared. He looked somewhere between amused and disappointed. The elevator doors closed and everyone felt slightly unnerved. No one moved for a minute, until Barton burst out with laughter. Wilson continued his attempt to pry his controller from the other man’s grasp, but he was not succeeding. The conflict wasn’t resolved until Romanoff stole them both and proceeded to get five strikes in a row. Wilson and Barton stared at her with a mix of awe and terror, which was probably what she was going for in the first place.   
That woman was terrifying, sometimes.  
But in this learning experience of how average superheroes can be, no one had ever seen Rogers leave his floor. From what Tony heard, he hardly left his room, so it was no shock to anyone that he wouldn’t venture further. Aside from getting his medication (which required talking to people who could get that amount of medicine no-questions-asked) there had been very little news from Barnes about his friend.  
Which was why it such a surprise when one day he showed up in Tony’s workshop.  
“Barnes isn’t here,” he said after noticing the smaller man’s presence and attempting to not gape in disbelief. He then smacked himself mentally when he realized that Rogers knew Barnes wasn’t there because Barnes wasn’t even in the Tower, and whenever he left the Tower he made sure to tell Jarvis to call him if something happened, then asked Tony to monitor him just in case, and then asked Jarvis to monitor Tony. There was no way Barnes would leave the Tower without informing Rogers first.  
Rogers shuffled awkwardly at the elevator door, as if he wanted to come in but wasn’t sure if that’s acceptable. He was in almost the same get-up as he was the first time Tony had seen him, but cleaner and slightly less disheveled. He assumed that was a good thing. He looked as haunted and tired as ever, though.  
One noticeable difference was the fact the only had one arm, now. Or at least, was missing his replacement. Barnes had been asking about what Tony had discovered when he was working on it, so he must’ve used that knowledge to get it off. Smart man.  
“But just because good ol’ Cap isn’t here doesn’t mean you can’t be. Come on in, what can I do for you?” he took his goggles off and placed his blowtorch down.   
Rogers walked in and muttered something.  
“It’s quiet,” Tony was barely able to make the words out but nodded anyway. He understood. Even if he had a different experience, sometimes being alone got to him too.  
“Well, pull up a chair, or the couch, I guess, and have a seat. There’s no such thing as quiet when there’s a Stark around,” he gave an obnoxious wink, but it elicited no reaction other than to have Rogers started to push the couch with one arm.  
It was easy to forget how strong he was, despite his size. Tony started to get up to help him, but he was shot with a glare as if to say “I can do it just fine” so he sat back down. The kid wanted to push the couch himself, who was he to take that decision away?  
But he could help in one way, though, so he started running his mouth.  
It’s not like Rogers was really listening to the content of what he was saying anyway, so he just talked about his current project (rebuilding the Iron Man suit) and didn’t bother to remove all the technobabble. Steve was lying on the couch he had managed to drag next to the workbench, hands folded behind his head and laying on his back in a way that was deceptively peaceful. He could almost have been asleep if it wasn’t for the fact that he most definitely was not. Despite his languid appearance there was no chance the kid wasn’t hyper-aware of everything around him.  
Tony almost forgot he was there after a while, still talking of course, but Rogers hadn’t seemed to move a muscle for about an hour. He was lost in working through how to get these damn interfaces to connect how they’re supposed to when he almost jumped out of his seat at a sudden voice.  
“He used to love this stuff,” Rogers had silently moved off of the couch and was looking over Tony’s shoulder with some sort of vague interest.  
“What?” because he was trying to get over the fact that he almost had a heart attack, he hadn’t really heard what the kid had said.  
“He was obsessed,” Rogers continued. “Loved pulp novels and all that. Would never shut up about it,” now that Tony was looking at his face, he could almost hear an inflection of fond exasperation in his voice. Then his brows furrowed as if confused. “I don’t know how I…” his voice trailed off and he went back to the couch, this time sitting straight up and looking down at his hand in his lap as if it held the secrets to the universe.  
Tony figured an interruption wouldn’t be appreciated so he had Jarvis play Zeppelin quietly in the background and went back to work.   
No interruption came until hours later (at least, Tony thought it was a few hours. He tended to lose track when he was working).   
“Sir,” Jarvis said, fading out the music. “Captain Barnes has returned. Shall I send him down?”  
Rogers looked up at the ceiling, then to Tony with an unreadable expression.  
“Sure, why not? We’ll make it a party,” he waved his hand to signify his dismissal of Barnes’ return and returned to work. Rogers was sitting stiffly with anxious eyes directed toward the elevator doors, awaiting his friend’s arrival.  
A few moments later, with a telltale ding, the elevators doors were open and Barnes was revealed.  
“Hey buddy,” he said, stepping out and letting the doors slide closed behind him.  
Rogers stood up and silently walked towards him.  
“Got tired of Stark’s ugly mug already? I don’t blame ya,” he joked. Rogers gave a huff that could’ve been the ghost of a laugh. Barnes was wearing this horrible adoring expression like he was proud of every breath his friend took. That probably wasn’t far off from the truth  
“I take offense to that,” Tony shouted behind him, returning to his blueprints. “I’ll have you know that several reliable sources have told me I’m very handsome, more so than you.”  
“He thinks he’s funny, you hear that Steve?” Barnes started to lead Rogers toward the elevator. “Let’s not disillusion him, who knows what’ll happen if-“  
The doors closing cut off the end of his sentence. Barnes and Rogers, presumably, went back to their floor.  
The strangeness of Tony’s life sunk in for a moment, but he just shook it off and returned to his work.

“So how did it go?” Barnes asked later that night when he found Tony eating takeout leftovers in the kitchen.  
Tony swallowed the oversized bite he had just shoved into his mouth and shrugged. “He didn’t do much. Came down, moved the couch and laid on it for a bit. He said like, three sentences. Mentioned something about pulp novels and you enjoying them,” he tried to act casual, as if he didn’t know how much of a big deal it was for Rogers to be remembering things, or to be up and about at all.  
“Really? He remembers that?” Barnes grinned and Tony shrugged again, refusing to get caught in whatever proud emotions Cap was feeling.  
“Seemed to. He came down on his own, which I imagine is a good thing,” Barnes nodded in agreement. “He wouldn’t let me help him move the couch. Didn’t argue about it.”  
Cap shook his head in amusement. “Of course he wouldn’t, stubborn bastard,” he looked back up at Tony. “Thanks for helping out, really. It’s really great that he found you, talked to you, so thanks for not making a big deal out of it.”  
“No problem,” he waved off the sincerity. “But since you removed that arm, you should probably give it to an expert. You know, somebody with experience in robotics.”  
“I’ll send it down. Thanks again, Stark,” Barnes got up and left before he could respond.  
Tony was hesitant to admit that he was beginning to understand some of what Barnes was feeling. He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t felt a small surge of pride when Rogers talked to him. The kid had been through too damn much, he should probably have been a blubbering mess or a catatonic vegetable after all that. It was miracle he was functioning at all, much less showing any sort of sign of recovery.  
It became a routine, of sorts, after that. When Barnes went out with his gang of non-superhuman superheroes to do whatever they did, Steve would eventually make his way into Tony’s workshop. He didn’t usually do much, just watched Tony work or lay on his spot on the couch (Tony was beginning to think of it as Rogers’ Couch, but he didn’t analyze that too much). They had a sort of bond through that. Rogers rarely spoke, and when he did he was quiet and unsure, as if he wasn’t sure if he was permitted to do so. But every once in a while he would come out with these dry, snide remarks that were delivered so deadpan that it would take Tony a moment to realize they were jokes. Then he would start laughing because holy shit, it rarely happened, but this kid was funny. The corner of Rogers’ mouth would twitch in a sign of amusement, but there wasn’t much more reaction than that (Tony still considered it a victory, and Barnes always beamed when he heard about it later).  
The only incident that ever happened when Rogers was in the workshop was when he fell asleep. Honestly, Tony wouldn’t have been able to tell if wasn’t for the fact that he started dreaming. Tony didn’t like to be reminded of when Barnes and Rogers first came to the Tower, how horrible it was to watch as his own mind betrayed him. Tony had been selfishly grateful that nothing else like that had happened in his presence.  
In fact, at first he hadn’t noticed, until he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. It was accompanied by a groan, then a whimper.  
He jumped up from his work and moved in front of the couch, where Steve was curled up on himself, cradling his arm to his body and shivering.  
“Jarvis, how does Barnes usually handle nightmares?” Tony asked, attempting to keep himself from panicking.  
Rogers cried out and arched his back, struggled as if something was holding him down.  
“Captain Barnes usually lets it run its course, unless Captain Rogers seems to be some kind of threat to himself or others,” Jarvis answered, voice cool and steady as if he knew how uncertain Tony was (and he probably did, the bastard). “But once he wakes up, he usually informs Captain Rogers of where he is and the current date.”  
“Right,” he muttered, his hands hovering around the smaller man’s shaking form.  
It didn’t last very long, luckily. Steve’s eyes shot open, bright and unseeing.   
“Rogers, hey. It’s Tony, uh Stark? You remember me?” he just stared as if Tony’s speaking a whole other language. Tony moved forward slightly, but Rogers flinched back.  
“Не трогай меня,“ he whimpered. Tony wasn’t sure exactly what he said, but he got the message.  
“Alright, I’ll stay over here. You’re in Avengers Tower, remember?” Tony gently reminded him, lifting his hands so Rogers could see them. “It’s 2015, you’re in my workshop. There’s no one here but you and me, no one’s gonna hurt you.”  
“надежный?“ he said, eyes wildly searching around him.  
“Hey, you’re okay. You’re name is Steve Rogers, you’re in my workshop in the Tower. Barnes’ll be back soon.”  
“Bucky?” he asked in a raspy voice.  
It took Tony a moment to realize Rogers was talking about Barnes.  
“He’s not here right now, but he’ll be back soon. It’s okay, Steve.”  
He started hyperventilating and it took all of Tony’s will not to completely panic because this kid has asthma, the last thing he needs is an asthma attack on top of a panic attack.  
“Hey, it’s okay, just breathe,” he hazarded to put a hand on Rogers’ bony shoulder. He didn’t flinch back, so he figured it was probably okay to sit next to him.  
“Come on, no one’s going to hurt you. Barnes- Bucky’ll be back anytime now, but you’ve got to breathe,” he just started mindlessly talking, repeating the same the same things over and over again. Eventually Rogers calmed down, luckily before he needed his emergency inhaler.  
“Jarvis, send down some hot chocolate,” he ordered. Pepper did it for him after having an attack, once, and it helped him cool down.   
“Yes, Sir.”  
“Thanks Stark,” Steve whispered, his voice hoarse. Tony gave him a flash of a grin.  
“Hey, what’s the point of knowing genius billionaires if they don’t help out every once in a while?” he joked in an attempt to lift the mood.  
Rogers gave his not-quite-a-laugh puff of breath.

Barnes didn’t return until a few hours later. When he did he found Tony and Rogers on the couch halfway through Princess and the Frog. Rogers was wrapped in about fifty blankets and was curled around a cup of hot chocolate. Tony had finished his already.   
Barnes looked winded when he came in, almost as if he had run down a few dozen flights of stairs instead of an elevator. Actually, it seemed that was exactly the case because he burst in from the stairway doors and shot straight to the couch.  
“Steve,” he said breathlessly. Tony was polite enough to pause the movie.  
“Jarvis told me- you,” he was crouching in front of Rogers, chest rising and falling as he attempted to even out his breathing.  
“You realize there is a perfectly functioning elevator, right?” Tony felt the need to make sure Cap hadn’t just forgotten about the convenient in face of his need to make sure Rogers was all right. He was ignored.  
“Are you okay?” Barnes finally pushed out after gaining his composure again. His hands were fully visible, but hovering as if he wanted to have physically reassurance that Rogers was in one piece.  
“’M fine, Buck,” is the petulant response he got.  
He seemed visibly relieved by the verbal answer so Barnes decided to collapse on the couch in between them.  
“You called me ‘Buck’,” is what he said after a moment, rolling his head to gaze fondly at his ex-assassin friend.  
Rogers shrugged and glared pointedly at Tony, as if ordering him to play the movie again.  
Barnes squinted at the television screen. “What’re we watching?”  
“Shhh,” was Steve’s only reply.  
As he sat and watched to magically transformed frogs sing and fall in love with a decades old world-renown deadly assassin and America’s greatest hero, Tony figured this counted as progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Не трогай меня = don't touch me  
> надежный? = safe?
> 
> you can find me at suffragettecities.tumblr.com where i cry about these two a lot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aside from the obvious (Barnes), it was surprising to how well everyone took to Rogers. He hardly ever even did anything and somehow he had managed to woo the hearts of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes (minus Thor, but Tony didn’t doubt he would be as entranced as the others).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Sorry this one's kinda short, it's mostly filler for the next one to come. Which means there will be actual plot soon! It's a miracle. But hey, Thor and co. joins the party!
> 
> No beta, so all mistakes are my own.

It had been almost a month after most of the Avengers had moved into the Tower.   
Barton and Romanoff kept giggling like first graders and talking in various languages every time he entered the room, but Tony was eighty percent sure they were just doing it to mess with him. Wilson was at his actual job at the VA. He had been lucky enough to manage a transfer from DC so he could keep track of his ridiculous pet superheroes. Banner was working with Barnes and Rogers about something to with the kid’s health issues, but Tony didn’t remember the specifics. Tony himself was taking a break from studying the robotic arm Barnes had managed to remove from Rogers’ side. He had already built a replacement that Rogers was using, but he wanted to see what improvements he could make.  
He was beginning to dislike the project.  
It’s not that he couldn’t figure out how it worked, not at all. In fact, that was the problem. He had figured out exactly how the arm worked and how they had installed it and it was horrifying. It was fully integrated to Rogers’ neural system, meaning he could control it easily. It also meant he could feel everything. Not on the outside, not at all, but the inside. He could have felt the gears grinding together and plates shift and every little mechanical detail that he had some control over. Those HYDRA fucks managed to created an amazing autonomous prosthetic, but they hadn’t thought to do anything to alleviate the pain.  
With the damage that Tony could find he figured that Rogers should’ve been writhing on the floor every time he moved the damn thing, which then made the whole experience worse because he had seen Rogers screaming and writhing before. It was not something he was likely to soon forget. It made him want to rip those bastards that dared to call themselves scientists and engineers apart for forcing that horrible monstrosity on a human being. It worried him, a little, how attached he had gotten to Rogers, but he could at least defend himself that he wasn’t alone on that front.  
Aside from the obvious (Barnes), it was surprising to how well everyone took to him. He hardly ever even did anything and somehow he had managed to woo the hearts of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes (minus Thor, but Tony didn’t doubt he would be as entranced as the others).   
Everyone had something they did with Rogers. Tony, of course, provided distraction and company. Romanoff provided some familiarity. She had debriefed him soon after they all moved in and they had both come out of it pale and troubled, but she had a determined look on her face. She had yet to share with the class what he told her, but Tony had a feeling the moment the information became relevant she would reveal it. Whether that was comforting or not was debatable.  
Barton, along with Romanoff, provided understanding. They both had gone through brainwashing and knew what it was like to be controlled. Of course, every situation was different, but they seemed to have some sort of support group where they didn’t talk about their feelings and shoot shit. Brainwashed Assassins Anonymous or something.  
Wilson was the only person who had any idea of what they were doing. Of course, this was a bit beyond his experiences, but he at least had some frame of reference that wasn’t “compartmentalize and avoid”. Wilson seemed to understand some things better than any of the others, and since he was a non-biased party with no past emotional ties or connections, it was easy for Rogers to go to him for things he couldn’t with Barnes.  
Bruce was the one everyone was unsure about. Between Bruce’s experience with the Supersoldier Serum and his propensity for turning Green and Dangerous, the gang was wary about them meeting. Their fears were for nothing, though, because they got on like a house on fire. Well, maybe that was a bit too violent of an expression for their interactions. Rogers and Bruce seemed to have an understanding. The Serum had screwed them both over in their own ways, and they both constantly had the danger of snapping and possibly killing everyone in the Tower. It was easy to forget exactly how dangerous Rogers was because of his size and manner, but Tony supposed that was the point.  
But Barnes, he would move the Earth and Sky for Rogers. As he said, “I’ve been protecting Steve Rogers from assholes since the twenties, that’s not about to change anytime soon.” Rogers trusted Barnes, which was amazing considering the circumstances that they had been reunited. More amazing still, Barnes trusted Rogers. He trusted him not to snap, not to fall back into HYDRA’s programming or to run away and escape from the memories. He trusted him with his life. Rogers was obviously important to Barnes, always had been. Tony had heard the stories from the source. Rogers had been picking fights for Barnes for as before he could remember, and Barnes had been finishing them for just as long. Despite everything that had happened, despite the separation and blood between them, James Barnes and Steve Rogers were unstoppable.  
Tony wondered when he became such a romantic. All this “feeling” bullshit must’ve been rubbing off on him.  
So yes, everyone was still a bit worried about the deadly amnesiac assassin, but everyone was also warming up to him.  
He still didn’t leave his floor consistently, and when he did, it was always to go spend time with one or two people in an enclosed space. He had consistent nightmares that broke the Security Noise Threshold, but Jarvis wouldn’t alert security for them. Sometimes he would wake up in a different place than he fell asleep, sometimes fighting Barnes and sometimes in a place he didn’t recognize and alone. He went back and forth between never leaving his room, wandering around like a ghost, binging on Netflix, having to be commanded to do simple things like eat and take his meds (Tony had to do that, once, when Barnes was gone because of an emergency. He didn’t like to think about it), and recognizing where he was and who he was with. From what Tony could tell, he didn’t have many memories back. He had a few, but not many. He recognized Barnes, usually, and was able to remember the Avengers if he was in a good place, but actual physical memories were what he struggled with.  
He had some, yes, but most of them were more recent. From what Tony could tell, he didn’t have so many memories of before being the Winter Soldier as it was that he just knew things. He had facts that were stored in his brain that he didn’t have any memories to connect to.  
He tended to relive his memories through dreams but sometimes that wasn’t the case. Sometimes he would zone out in the middle of whatever he was doing as his mind brought him to another place. Usually, he didn’t move, just kept his thousand-year stare without being aware of what went on around him. Sometimes he would move around, almost like sleepwalking. They had learned the hard way not to try to get him up during those. They had also learned that Rogers managed to keep a knife on him at all times. Both of those facts were good to know for the future so no one got stabbed.  
Besides the nightmares, flashbacks, the sudden reversions back into the Winter Soldier, the periods of time when he would just lock himself away, the fact he had to come to terms with seventy years of brainwashing and torture and being forced to do horrible unspeakable things, barely being able to hold down any food, and a list of medical issues long as Thor’s extremely muscled arm, things were going pretty well.  
At least, as well as could be expected in a Tower full of people with Issues (“Issues” with a capital “I” because holy hell being a superhero was hard).  
Speaking of Thor, it was in fact the very day Thor was going to come with Dr. Foster and Co. to move in. Thor still had princely duties on Asgard, but since his brother kicked the bucket (again) he was able to spend much more time on Earth.  
Everyone was gathering in the Common Floor to greet him when he arrived. Even Bruce had managed to pry himself away from science and come down. Barnes had said he’d see if Steve wanted to come and meet everyone too, but he wasn’t making any promises.   
Neither of them made it down in time for Thor to actually arrive. He wasn’t alone, though. He had apparently brought his girlfriend, her intern, her intern’s intern, and the man who had been brainwashed along with Barton during the whole Loki Incident.  
Introductions were made, handshakes shaked, and small talk was attempted.  
“Wait,” Thor said with a frown after Wilson had introduced himself. “Where is the Captain?”  
Everyone seemed to flounder for a moment as everyone attempted to find a suitable answer.  
“He has a friend who’s been staying on his floor that he’s probably helping, but he said he’ll be down as soon as possible,” was is the one who gave a vague yet acceptable answer.  
Thor nodded with understanding. “Barnes has been busy since I last saw him, I will not begrudge him time with his companion.”  
Barton’s eyes bulged at the wording and what it implied, but he and Tony both managed to keep their mouths shut.  
Today was apparently not good day, because Barnes walked in without Rogers looking slightly bedraggled and tired.  
“Sorry I’m late, it was a long night,” he apologized which did not help the images in Tony’s brain, despite knowing that the reason Barnes didn’t sleep the previous night involved a lot more shouting and knives than wild sex.  
“James!” was the enthusiastic reception he got, along with a firm grasping of hands. Barnes smiled and returned the greeting.  
“James Barnes, ma’am,” he introduced himself to Foster with a charming kiss on the hand that left her blushing.  
“Whoa, you’re four times her age, Cap, lets not get ahead of ourselves,” Tony interrupted.  
“He’s just jealous,” Barnes fake-whispered to her, finishing with an obnoxious wink. He then moved onto the intern and did the same song and dance.  
“Can I keep him?” was the first thing to come out of her mouth. There was a wave of laughter and she went to stand next to the other intern, Ian.  
Everyone began to talk amongst themselves as they all caught up. Tony didn’t fail to notice the way Barnes’ eye kept flickering to the watch on his wrist, then to the elevator door. It seemed as if he was expecting someone to come out of it, or anxious to leave. Tony didn’t blame him for being hesitant to leave Rogers alone for too extended periods of time after the apparently rough night he had. Apparently Romanoff picked up on that too –and was Tony really surprised? She was a spy –so she ended up whispering something to Barnes and then moving towards the elevator. If anyone else saw, then they didn’t say anything.

********

Despite popular belief, there were times when Tony went to bed at a ‘reasonable hour’. This was not one of them. In fact, he hadn’t realized it was night until he had entered the kitchen of the Common Floor in search for something vaguely edible. At least, something that wasn’t poisonous. A sight he hadn’t expected greeted him.  
At the communal table sat Rogers and Thor, sitting across from each other. It was almost laughable how out of proportion they were. Rogers had to be at least a foot shorter than the god. Thor almost loomed over him, despite the wide distance the table took up between them.  
They were speaking in hushed tones, or at least, Tony assumed Rogers was speaking. With his back to the elevator it was hard to tell. Thor definitely was, though.  
Tony paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. There was no way Rogers, if not Thor as well, hadn’t noticed his presence. He was unsure whether an interruption would be unwelcome.  
His questions were answered with Rogers standing up. He slid to the floor and walked by Tony, the only acknowledgement he gave was a slight nod of the head. Tony wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not.  
“So,” he said, falling ungracefully into the chair Steve had been previously occupying. “You met our resident restoration project.”  
“He has experienced horrors that I cannot imagine,” was all Thor said. His eyes were soft and sad.  
“Yeah. He’s been through a lot,” was the pathetic response Tony gave. What an understatement.  
“He seems to carry the weight of all the Nine Realms on his shoulders. It is not a burden carried lightly,” Thor was gazing into the mug his hands cradled delicately. “It is strange to think one so small has endured so much.”  
“You know what they say, size doesn’t matter,” Tony gave an attempt at a wry grin but honestly he was exhausted, and thinking about everything that Rogers had been through didn’t help.  
Thor pursed his lips. “I am afraid that in all my centuries I cannot recall meeting one like him. He is…”  
“Traumatized?” he offered. “Jumpy?”  
Thor shook his head. “Haunted.”  
Well, what could Tony say to that? If there was a better word to describe Rogers’ state of mind, he wasn’t going to be the one to find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at suffragettecities.tumblr.com where I cry over these sad nerds at all times.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Rogers and Barnes went out. It was a big deal, the first time Rogers had left the tower since he had arrived. Barnes had it all planned out, they were only going for a few hours but they were going to go to the museum then walk around for a bit. It would probably be good for both of them.  
> Barnes hadn’t seemed nervous. In fact, he seemed rather enthusiastic. Rogers was much more calm compared to him, but excited, and anxious, all the same.  
> Barnes had prepared for practically every possible outlier; backup plans and emergency escape routes all laid out in his mind. This was why it was so ironic when something he wasn’t prepared for happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry no update last week! My life has kinda been a bit of a mess recently :/. But, hopefully that won't happen again any time soon!  
> Wow, look at all this plot! When did that happen? Who knows.
> 
> Russain taken from google translate, so it's probably not entirely accurate.  
> No beta, so all mistakes are my own.

It was about a week later and Rogers was doing rather well, from what Tony heard. He still had flashbacks, nightmares, and panic attacks, but he didn’t forget where he was and attack somebody who came near him as often. In fact, though he hadn’t recovered many memories before his time at HYDRA, he was managing. Shockingly well. He didn’t pick up on most social cues, sometimes started speaking a different language without realizing it, and still was trouble with autonomy, but he was doing well.  
So well, in fact, that he was going to be joining the team for breakfast. Romanoff, Wilson, and Tony were seated at the dining table. Bruce was asleep and Thor was probably on his floor enjoying the company of his girlfriend. Barton was in the kitchen still cooking.  
The elevator doors slid open and Tony wasn't proud to admit it, but his mouth dropped. He had designed the new prosthetic Rogers was using based on the original one, but it was better. It was newer, faster, stronger, and sure as hell didn't hurt like the old one did. Steve even had some sensation in it, basic things like temperature and pressure sensitivity. But that wasn’t what was so shocking  
He was so young. It was the only thing Tony could think about with Rogers' appearance.  
He was wearing a pair of thick black frames that Bruce must've just given him. In his ears were hearing aids that were relatively new because they weren't there the last time Tony had seen him.  
Tony was around ninety percent sure that those jeans belonged to Romanoff but they were still loose. His oversized button up was hanging off of his shoulders in a way that meant it had to belong to Barnes and the top few buttons were open to reveal a white undershirt. His hair was a bit shorter than Tony had last seen it and much more styled. He was thin and pale with tired eyes and sunken in cheeks but goddamn it if in that moment he didn't almost look normal.  
He looked like a college student, or a hipster, not a ninety year old who could probably kill everyone in the Tower.  
Tony took a moment to let himself be mad at what HYDRA took away from the kid, his health and his whole future, before going back to the pancakes that Barton had made that morning.  
They were chocolate chip and had a smiley face on them made out of whipped cream and strawberries. It was sometimes hard to remember that everyone in the Tower were supposed to be adults.  
“Looking good, man,” Wilson said after he politely swallowed a reasonable sized bite of his own smiling pancake face.  
Rogers ducked his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets, but the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Thanks,” he muttered.  
Barnes was beaming at him so brightly it was almost sickening to see, especially before noon.   
“Yeah, you almost look like a functional human being,” Tony added because he was not to be one-upped. Barnes glared at him and Rogers rolled his eyes.  
“Barton made pancakes,” Romanoff lifted her plate and fork to indicate to the cook who was standing attentively at the grill.  
“The best goddamn pancakes you’ve ever had in your life,” he agrees, not looking up from his craft.  
“I’ve never had pancakes, they weren’t really on HYDRA’s menu,” Rogers said with slightly furrowed eyebrows. There was a silent moment as everyone stared at each other with abject horror.  
Rogers looked up, then glanced at Barnes, who then gave an ugly snort. The tension in the room immediately diffused.  
Barton placed a plate in front of Barnes, and then one in front of Rogers.  
“Doing a great job at waitress duty, Barton,” Stark mocked but it was softened due to the obscene amount of chocolate chip pancakes and syrup he had in his mouth. Barton just winked obnoxiously before going back to his duties.  
Rogers took a few bites over the course of the first fifteen or so minutes, but then pushed his plate just slightly closer to Barnes who, without looking or indicating he had even noticed, piled the rest of the food onto his own.  
Barnes had warned food was a Thing with Steve. Even before HYDRA, before the serum, he couldn’t stomach much. They were too poor to really get any reasonable amount anyway. Bucky would try to sneak him a larger portion but that would end with a Look or an argument, so it was rather useless. During the war, even when he had to eat more to keep up his metabolism, he still didn’t eat that much (or enough, depending on which mother hen you were asking). He was always giving his rations to someone who he thought needed it more. Along with what HYDRA had done to him, it was enough to fuck a person about eating, much less about everything else.  
So no one mentioned the fact that he had given the rest of his serving to Barnes, not that they would’ve judged him for it either way. The explanation just kept unwanted questions or things that could get to Steve at bay.  
“So Steve and I were talking,” began Barnes between obnoxiously sized bites.  
“Breathe while you’re eating, Buck, your ma’d have a fit,” came the response before anyone could answer. Rogers was giving the Captain a very unimpressed look.  
Barnes swallowed. “Well I haven’t had you around to call me out on it, have I?” He threw an arm around Rogers’ shoulder, who stiffened but then relaxed into it, even as he attempted to push Barnes away.  
It hit him again that they were both young. Ninety-year old Captain Barnes was only in his mid-twenties. He should be going out to bars and getting shit-faced. He should be out having fun, making poor life choices, and doing whatever it was that kids did these days. God, Tony felt old.  
“As I was saying,” Barnes gave Rogers a pointed look, “Steve and I were talking about maybe going out today.”  
Rogers shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. It was hard to get a read on how he felt about the idea.  
“Yeah? That sounds like a good idea,” Wilson nodded encouragingly. He was probably the only one who had the experience to appropriately handle the situation.  
“Yeah we were thinking of going to the Met or something. There’s this exhibit with a bunch of old baseball cards, and all the statues look pretty cool,” said Barnes with all the expertise of someone who had probably never been to a museum in his life.  
“You wouldn’t know fine art if hit you right on that thick skull of yours, Barnes,” Rogers scoffed but looked vaguely amused at his friends mock offended face.  
“Didn’t have much of a choice living with you, did I?” he defended.  
Rogers rolled his eyes but conceded to the point. Either Barnes was right, or Rogers didn’t remember enough to prove him wrong.

********

So Rogers and Barnes went out. It was a big deal, the first time Rogers had left the tower since he had arrived. Barnes had it all planned out, they were only going for a few hours but they were going to go to the museum then walk around for a bit. It would probably be good for both of them.  
Barnes hadn’t seemed nervous. In fact, he seemed rather enthusiastic. Rogers was much more calm compared to him, but excited, and anxious, all the same.  
Barnes had prepared for practically every possible outlier; backup plans and emergency escape routes all laid out in his mind. This was why it was so ironic when something he wasn’t prepared for happened.  
“He’s gone,” were the first words Tony heard when he answered the Captain’s call. His blood froze.  
“What?” he demanded, hoping against every instinct he had that he had just heard wrong.  
“He’s fucking gone, Stark. Disappeared,” Barnes snapped harshly.  
Tony bit back the urge to snap back, but there were much more pressing matters. “How long?”  
“Like five minutes. I-“  
“Five minutes? You sure as hell took your time calling.” Tony was an expert at covering up how worried he actually was by being an asshole. He was working on it.  
“I was looking, making sure he hadn’t gotten lost or something. Jesus, Stark, it’s not like I took my sweet time.”  
‘It feels like it’ Tony didn’t say because it was not the time to have a pissing contest with Captain America. “I’ll get Jarvis on it immediately. You get back to the Tower,” he ordered instead.  
“What? I need to look for him!” he immediately protested.  
“Barnes, we have no idea where he is why he left or what happened. We need to get calm and organized. We’re useless if we panic.”  
Tony heard Barnes take several harsh breaths through the receiver.   
“I’m heading back now,” is the goodbye he gave before he hung up  
Tony allowed himself one deep breath to gather his thoughts before springing into action.  
“J, get everyone to the common floor. I need you to search through all traffic cams and security in the area. Figure out when he left and where he’s going. See if anything could’ve set him off,” he demanded.   
“Already on it, sir.”  
Sometimes Tony was impressed with his own genius in coding his AI.  
The elevator brought him up to the Common Floor in record time. The door opened and he was met with a barrage of people asking what the hell was happening.  
Tony would have liked to know himself.  
He got everything settled down and the Avengers, and Wilson, took their seats.  
“Rogers went missing,” he said in lieu of an introduction.  
There was a moment of silence as everyone tried to figure out how to approach this.  
“Where’s Barnes?” Romanoff was the first one to speak.  
“On his way now,” Tony willed for him to get there faster, because he was not cut out for the team leader crap. He was much too cynical for that.  
“What happened?” Bruce was the next one to talk.  
“I don’t know. I just got a call from Barnes,” he answered truthfully. “I have Jarvis searching for him now.”  
“Could someone have taken him?” Wilson asked.  
“Rogers left Captain Barnes’ side on his own. He has yet to appear on any surveillance can find since then, but it was unlikely someone had captured him,” Jarvis informed them. Tony felt a miniscule wave of relief.  
“And we do not know the motivation for his disappearance?” Thor sounded deeply worried, and rightfully so. They were running blind.  
Tony shook his head.  
“Anything from Jarvis?” Barnes announced his presence as he exited the elevator. He was pale and tense. His hair was sticking out in a windblown manner. He had probably run to the tower.  
“Nothing yet,” was Tony’s response. God, he felt useless. There was nothing to do but sit and wait until Jarvis found something they could work with. Though he was faster at going through data than the rest of them combined, none of the Avengers’ talents laid in doing nothing. It felt like a betrayal.  
“Fuck,” Barton cursed, standing from his spot on the couch. He moved to edgily pace by the window.  
“Not that I’m really a huge fan, but should we call SHIELD? Or at least, what’s left?” Wilson asked.  
Barnes shook his head. “We can’t. The only people who know Steve’s here –who Steve really is—are in this room. Even if there aren’t any HYDRA moles left, which is unlikely, it would turn into a witch hunt.”  
“Everyone’s been out for blood since SHIELD went public,” Romanoff added, not mentioning who had responsible for the agency’s sudden transparency. “The Winter Soldier is wanted by our and foreign governments. One whiff of this and they’ll send out the blood hounds.”  
There were murmurs of assent. No one looked reassured by the analogy.  
There was another pause in the dialogue that had Tony squirming where he stood.  
“Is there anything he can do to help, then?” Bruce asked.  
“I feel better if I could help in the search,” Thor agreed.  
“Jarvis is doing it all faster than we ever could. There’s nothing to do until he picks up a trail,” Tony explained.  
Another moment of silence as they realized how helpless they –the Avengers –really were. It was frustrating to no end.

Everyone was on edge. Rogers had been missing for three and a half hours. Barnes was practically shaking with fear and frustration. Barton and Romanoff were in the gym. Bruce and Thor were talking on the couch in the Common Floor and Tony was helping Jarvis run protocols to help narrow the search.  
“Sir,” Jarvis said. Thor and Bruce immediately stopped their conversation and looked up to where Jarvis’ speakers were hidden. “I have found a seventy three percent match.”  
“Pull it up,” Tony said as he closed all his other work. Thor and Bruce moved behind the chair he was sitting in to get a better look.  
The photo didn’t show much. It was someone’s selfie, Jarvis had highlighted where the person that could be Rogers was in the background. He looked like he was about to enter a building.  
“Blow it up, J,” the excess parts of the picture were immediately removed and the part including Steve grew larger.  
It was low quality. From what he could tell the man had a similar height and stature, but his clothes were completely different. The hood of the thick, navy blue sweatshirt he had changed into covered his face. It was a sunny day.  
“That’s him,” he announced after a moment. “Tell Barnes and the others. Where was that taken?”

It was decided only three of them would go. Barnes was a must. He looked like he was about to have an aneurism. If they had found Rogers any later he probably would’ve developed a stress ulcer.   
Romanoff was also another obvious choice. She was the person who knew the most about what Rogers had been through. Not only could she help figure out what triggered him, but also if it came to a fight she wouldn’t hesitate to do what was needed. She was scarily efficient like that.   
The third choice was less obvious. It had been elected that Tony go as well. Not that he didn’t want to come, of course, but stealth wasn’t really his thing. He preferred to shoot first and ask questions later. He may have had finesse, but this seemed out of his comfort zone. But, as Barnes said, they don’t know what they facing and “if worst comes to worst, then you’re the sacrifice to provide distraction for everyone else.” It was a less-than comforting thought.  
“So out of all places he goes to a bank?” Tony asks as they drive to where he was seen entering. He felt slightly exposed out of the suit, but he had it in the briefcase he was carrying if he needed it. Hopefully not.  
“I don’t think where he went is the main priority, Stark,” Barnes answered. Romanoff pursed her lips and looked dubious, but didn’t comment.  
“We’re here,” she said instead, opening the passenger door when the vehicle had fully stopped. The two men followed.  
The bank was closed, but the lock had already been broken, presumably by Rogers. The inside looked like no one had been there for weeks, if not months. It was dark, but Tony could still see there was a single trail of footprints in the dust that led to the vault door. Romanoff pulled out her gun. Barnes led first with his shield. A moment later he gave the ‘all clear’ signal and moved forward.  
The vault was large and had multiple rooms. The first was completely empty, the second the same, but the third was…  
There were monitors set up near the wall connected to laptops. Half empty IV bags connected to drips leading to small IV lines. There was table of surgical and mechanical tools alike. Blood stains on the floor led to the main attraction.  
In the center with all of the other thing framing it was a horrible looking machine. It was like a dentists chair from hell with wires and fastenings. It wasn’t too large. In fact, it seemed to be personally fitted for one person. Tony felt sick imagining it, Rogers being strapped down and helpless as HYDRA tinkered and tortured his body and mind. From the looks on the others’ faces, they were thinking the same thing. They had definitely found the right place.   
“Stark, look through the computer files, see if there’s anything of use,” Barnes ordered as he led Romanoff to the next room. Tony was happy to oblige, unsure if he could stomach seeing what other horrors this place held. He booted up the laptop and started, until he heard a noise from the other room.  
“Steve?” he could make out Barnes’ voice softly call. He froze, caught between his work and checking to see if Rogers was okay.  
“No, Steve, it’s alright. It’s me,” Barnes was still using that calming, soft voice. Tony started to approach the open door.  
Romanoff muttered something he couldn’t make out, but Barnes replied with “I know.”  
He was at the doorway and surveyed the room with abject horror. Barnes and Romanoff were crouched in the middle of some sort of storage room holding whatever other parts HYDRA needed to maintain the Winter Soldier. Machine parts, storage containers, shelves filled with different IV bags and medicines. In the corner was an open metal pod leaned up against the wall. It looked like a coffin, and worst of all, Rogers was curled up inside.  
“пожалуйста исправить меня это остановить , пожалуйста,” he was whimpering. “это слишком много взять все это прочь снова , пожалуйста, исправить меня.”  
Romanoff could definitely understand what he was saying, but she wasn’t telling. Instead, she responded in kind.  
“ты в безопасности. мы здесь не сделать тебе больно,” she told him. He didn’t acknowledge her.  
“пожалуйста,” he whimpered again. “Fix me, please. Take it away. Put me back on ice, anything, just make it stop.”  
Tony didn’t need a translation for that one, though he almost wished he did.  
Barnes began to inch closer. Romanoff’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm, but he shook it off.  
“Hey Stevie,” he whispered as he crawled closer. “It’s me, it’s Bucky. It’s going to be okay. I promise, I’ll make this okay.”  
Rogers didn’t respond, but Barnes wasn’t deterred.  
“Remember what your ma always used to say? If you can’t fix it today, there’s always tomorrow. You just gotta stay with me ‘till tomorrow. Can you do that, Stevie?”  
Barnes had made it to the pod but Rogers hadn’t moved.  
“We made a promise, remember, ‘till the end of the line,” he moved Rogers’ shivering body so his head lay in the Captain’s lap and started stroking his hair delicately. Tony felt like he was intruding on something very intimate.  
He remembered Barnes saying that Steve used to get sick a lot. How many times was this position mirrored? Rogers shaking and delirious from a fever, Barnes talking to him and giving what comfort he could. Barnes fit the role easily, protector and caretaker to Steve Rogers.  
“Come on, Stevie. You’ve gotta get up. If not for you, then what about me, huh? What about your old pal Bucky?” at the sound of his friend’s odd nickname Rogers shifted.  
“Bucky?” a weak called and Tony gave a desperate sigh of relief. Romanoff visibly relaxed and Barnes gave a weak smile.  
“Yeah, it’s me.”  
“Where-“ Steve started but got cut off by a harsh coughing fit. “Where are we?”  
A flash of emotion went through Barnes’ eyes before he composed himself.  
“You took off, Stevie. You scared me real bad,” he answered without really answering.  
“S’rry,” Rogers mumbled and Tony stepped away and back to the laptops. He figured Barnes and Romanoff had this one handled for now.

********

Luckily, getting Rogers out didn’t take as long as finding him. By the time Tony had downloaded all the information back to the Tower Rogers was recovered enough that he could leave.  
Sort of.  
He was huddled against Barnes’ side as they exited the storage room. He took one look at his surroundings and started hyperventilating.  
A breathy whisper of “no,” fell out of his mouth as he looked at Tony, Romanoff, then up to Barnes with wide, betrayed eyes.  
“You promised,” he choked out, barely able to get the air to form the words. He stepped away from Barnes, eyes darting across the room. “You promised you wouldn’t make me forget again.”  
It was with a horrible sick feeling that Tony realized exactly what the head gear and machinery around the chair was meant for.  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tony put his hands up defensively. “We’re not here to make you do anything. We’re not like them,” he spat the word out.  
Rogers had crossed the room before Tony had even realized he’d moved. There was cold fury blazing in his eyes.  
“What would you know about them, Stark?” Rogers sneered. His human hand gripped Tony by the throat and pushed him back with surprising strength until he was pinned to a wall. “You build machines that kill and claim that it’s to protect people. They built a machine that kills and claimed it was to save the world. How are you any different?”  
The chilling parallel sunk into his bones before he could stop it. H e attempted to speak but couldn’t due to the force crushing his windpipe.  
“You know why,” Romanoff answered instead. Rogers didn’t turn his head but his hand loosened microscopically.  
“How do I know you aren’t just going to make me forget? How do I know you’re not one of them?” He released his grip on Tony’s throat and took a step back. Tony slumped to the floor, chest heaving as it took in air.  
“How do I know this is real? That you’re not just in my head?” he grabbed his hair and pulled desperately. “It’s just a trick. I’ll wake up and be back there and start all over again I can’t do it again I can’t-“  
“Steve,” Barnes said with a forcefully calm tone and took a cautious step forward.  
“Don’t,” Rogers warned. “Don’t you dare. You already took away everything why do you have to take away this?” he looked helplessly up at the ceiling. “Just do it!” he shouted. “Whatever the hell you’re planning to do, just do it already. I can’t take this anymore! Just make them kill me make me forget just get it over with!”  
He looked at Barnes with wide, fearful eyes, then down at the floor at his feet. “Just wipe me. Make it stop.”  
There was a large crash that made Tony and Rogers jump. Their heads swiveled to see Barnes, shield in hand, standing over the crushed remains of the horrible chair, shaking with anger.  
“What-“ Rogers began but was cut off by Barnes turning sharply, leveling him with an intense gaze. His eyes burned with righteous fury, put off by the tears welling up in the corners.  
“Shut the fuck up,” Barnes ordered as he stepped forward. Rogers stumbled back to escape his gaze, but Barnes caught his arms and knelt down so they were at the same level.  
“Shut the fuck up, you bastard,” he whispered, dropping his head against Steve’s frail chest.  
Steve looked terrified, eyes wide in fear and bafflement. He was stiff as board as Barnes put his arms around him and squeezed.  
“You’re never going back, you hear? Never. I’d fucking die before I let that happen.”  
Rogers’ arms hovered awkwardly. It seemed he was unsure of what to do with them, or Barnes’ confession.  
“You can’t –I can’t lose you again, Steve. I can’t. I can’t go through that again.”  
Steve wrapped one arm against Barnes’ shaking body, but the other hand continued to hover around his head, still pressed into his chest.  
“Buck,“ he whispered. His eyes had turned from confused to sad.  
“So don’t. Don’t fucking say that shit. I don’t care if it makes me the most selfish bastard in the world, but I’m not letting you go again. Never again.”  
“Oh, Buck,” he repeated and knelt down to join Barnes, wrapping his arms around the much larger mans body and clinging for dear life.  
Tony glanced at Natasha to see how she was reacting, but she was also wide-eyed and unsure of how to continue. The made eye contact and there was a moment of understanding between them. Barnes and Rogers needed this. They needed a few minutes to themselves.  
She silently left the room and he followed, eyes avoiding the horribly intimate scene displayed in front of him. He let out a deep breath once he had made it through the door.  
They were practically made for each other, he thought. It was tragic, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> пожалуйста исправить меня это остановить , пожалуйста = Please fix me, make it stop.  
> это слишком много взять все это прочь снова , пожалуйста, исправить меня = It's too much take it all away again, please fix me.  
> ты в безопасности. мы здесь не сделать тебе больно = You're safe. We're not here to hurt you.  
> пожалуйста = Please.
> 
> You can find me at my tumblr suffragettecities.tumblr.com where I cry about these two a lot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elevator ride to their floor was tense and silent. The moment the doors slid open far enough, Steve shot out of Bucky’s hold, leaving him off balance. Bucky was surprised enough that he hadn’t even saw where Steve had gone, but recognized the telltale slam of a door.
> 
> Steve was locking himself away. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian taken from google translate.
> 
> No beta, so all mistakes are my own.

Bucky took Steve back to the Tower, one arm wrapped protectively around him as if they were heading back to their shitty hole-in-the-wall apartment in the 30s.

It couldn’t be further from the truth.

Steve had finally stopped shaking by the time Happy Hogan parked in Stark’s personal garage.

Bucky just kept talking, murmuring endless assurances and apologies. He hardly even paid attention to what he was saying. The image of Steve’s look of betrayal when he saw that horrible fucking chair was burned into his mind. All he could hear was Steve begging, begging, for it all to end, begging to forget, begging to die.

The elevator ride to their floor was tense and silent. The moment the doors slid open far enough, Steve shot out of Bucky’s hold, leaving him off balance. Bucky was surprised enough that he hadn’t even saw where Steve had gone, but recognized the telltale slam of a door.

Steve was locking himself away. Again.

They had been doing better. He had been doing better. Bucky was almost vibrating with sudden anger at whatever triggered the whole thing, whatever Steve saw or heard that made him disappear. He was fucking furious at HYDRA and Pierce and Zola and every person who had ever dared to lay a finger on Steve.

But mostly, he just felt hopeless. What was he supposed to do? This was a setback that he hadn’t been prepared for; he didn’t think any of them were. 

Bucky ran a hand through his hair and tugged in frustration. He was fucking useless, completely at loss for what to do. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, everybody had warned him as if he had no idea what he was getting into. He did, but he didn’t care. It was Steve.

But this; the silent room that still seemed to echo with the slam of Steve’s door? The desperate feeling gnawing at his chest? He wasn’t prepared for this.

********

“Experiments, it looks like. Records of what they did to him,” Tony explained.  
“How many?” she asked.  
“A bit over thirty, it looks like,” Stark said.  
“James will want to see this."  
"I know, but I want to know what we're showing him first," Tony pressed buttons on his keyboard and a holographic image flickered to life in front of them.

The screen came to life on a familiar scene… An empty bank vault with the chair Bucky had ripped apart as the centerpiece. The room was empty.  
A thunder of footsteps and frantic voices began, quickly rising in volume. Men and women who could only be scientists were the first to walk into the frame, swiftly followed by guards in black uniforms. A limp figure was dragged in and shoved onto the chair while the others worked around him. The figure, Steve, didn’t seem to process the chaos. His expression was vacant and unmoving.  
“Get that off of him,” someone demanded. The black leather jacket Steve wore was unceremoniously torn off of him. The nameless HYDRA goon moved Steve’s limbs as if he were a doll. Steve had yet to show any reaction.  
“Any damage?” a scientist asked.  
“The Widow managed to fuck up the arm with a shock to the system.”  
Unbeknownst to those surrounding him, Steve began to twitch. He flinched from blows only he could feel.  
There were men already working on his arm. Tony shuddered when he remembered how it was hooked up to Steve’s nervous system.  
“Check if any physical maintenance is needed.”  
A man started to approach Steve’s right side. In a flash, Steve was on his feet and the scientist had been knocked away. His breathing was heavy and every muscle was tense, but his eyes were clouded and he was slightly swaying on unsteady feet. Every guard in in the room had their weapons aimed and ready to fire. Steve’s bare chest was heaving, you could see his ribs as his lungs rapidly inflated and deflated.  
The sound of someone new approaching distracted the room and Steve was pushed back into the chair.  
“-he’s erratic, unstable.” Someone off-screen was speaking, becoming more audible as a hush fell over the room.  
Alexander Pierce entered the frame.  
Pierce knelt in front of Steve’s line of sight.  
“Asset. Mission report,” he ordered.  
Steve didn’t show any sign of having heard him.  
“Mission report,” Pierce repeated.  
Steve still didn’t respond. Tony wasn’t sure if he even realized Pierce was there.  
A pause, then a loud and sudden crack made the room jump. Steve’s head snapped to the side, his delicate skin already burning red where the back of Pierce’s hand had made contact.  
“Report.”  
Steve blinked slowly and stared at Pierce as if it was the first time he noticed the other man’s presence.  
“The man on the bridge,” he rasped. “Who was he?”  
Tony sucked in a sharp breath.  
“You met him this week on an earlier assignment.”  
“I knew him,” Steve whispered.  
“But I knew him,” Steve’s voice was so small, so lost. Bucky’s heart broke to hear it.  
“Prep him.”  
“He’s been out of cryo for too long…” a man protested. Pierce turned back to face the visibly lost Steve.  
“Then wipe him, and start over.”  
Pierce walked away.  
The machinery around the chair began to hum. Steve was pushed back. Restraints clamped down on his wrists. He accepted a rubber mouth guard. Metal plates shifted and moved toward his face as Steve tilted his head back and began to hyperventilate. The machine was almost up to full power.  
Screams were torn from Steve’s throat. Once they began, they wouldn’t stop. The machine was burning into his skull, his mind.  
The whirring of the chair slowed to a stop. Steve continued to scream until the metal plates detached themselves from his skull with a hiss. His body went completely limp as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. A halo of smoke rose from where the machine had been attached to his skin.  
Steve’s head tilted forward and his chin connected with his collarbone. His whole body would spasm at random intervals; even his metal arm whirred as it twitched. He sat like a ragdoll, a marionette whose strings had been cut. There was a moment the screen was filled with static, then it turned black with a click.  
Silence.

Tony and Natasha had yet to speak. Stark’s eyes were closed and his face was twisted into a grimace.  
Natasha was still standing but her face had paled, her eyes slightly wider than usually and her hands trembled from where she had locked her wrist joints.  
“О Боже,” she whispered. “The Red Room was far from kind, but at least they were not so… brutal. There was a finesse to their methods, a purpose. I can’t say the same for this.”  
Tony shuddered to think about it. The chair was clearly the end product of the Russians and HYDRA’s methods. How cruel they were to break Steve to the point where the chair and cryogenic freezing were all that was needed to keep the Winter Soldier in check. The thought of how much Steve had suffered at their hands made him uncontrollably angry. His clenched fists shook. He shot up from the chair and paced around in an attempt to burn off the excess energy. 

********

Bucky was pacing through their floor. Everything was the same as when he had left, but everything felt different. Steve’s door was still closed. The piece of wood separating them felt like an impossible obstacle to cross.  
Deciding to face his reservations head on, Bucky knocked.  
“Can I come in?” he asked through the door.  
Steve responded with a muffled “sure” so Bucky twisted the door handle and entered.  
The bedroom was furnished, but if Bucky didn’t know better he would think it unoccupied. There was no indication that someone lived in this space.  
At the foot of the perfectly made bed, Steve sat with his knees tucked into his chest. He looked gaunt, pale. His expression was nearly blank but the trembling of his shoulders betrayed him.  
“What’re you-“ Bucky began to ask but cut himself off when he saw what was playing.  
Projected on the wall was a Captain America newsreel, one of a handful shot during the war. They were a pain to shoot, but, according to Senator Brandt, necessary.  
There was no sound playing, but in his head Bucky could hear the narrator enthusiastically describing the heroics of Captain America and his men.  
Bucky stood there for what felt like ages watching the projected ghosts.  
“I’m never gonna be him again, you know.” Steve’s voice was small and shaky, but determined. Bucky’s eyes flicked to Steve, the screen, then back to Steve again.  
The blond hadn’t taken his eyes off of the images playing before him.  
He gestured to the film. “He died on an operating table in Russia. He’s not coming back.”  
Bucky shook his head and took a seat on the floor next to him. He left a few inches of space between them.  
“See, you got it wrong.” Steve made a noise of protest. Bucky mimicked Steve’s gesture toward the screen. “Steve Rogers ain’t Captain America. Never was.”  
“You’re not –it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if Steve Rogers was or wasn’t Captain America. The fact is, he’s not coming back. He’s dead, Bucky. Has been since ’46. Nothing’s left of him but his corpse.” Steve crossed his arms to hold himself.  
“He’s never coming back, so don’t bother trying. You’re only gonna be more disappointed in the end.”  
Bucky just stared childhood friend and wondered how one person could say so many stupid things at once.  
“Of course I’m not getting that Steve back.”  
Steve’s head shot up to stare at Bucky.  
“Did you really think that’s how I’ve been seeing this? One day you’ll wake up and I’ll have my good pal Steve Rogers back and we’ll reminisce over the good ol’ days and complain about modern conveniences?”  
“I-“  
“No, Steve. I’m not waiting for that Steve Rogers back. I’m waiting for this Steve to start figuring out who he is now. I’m not doing this for the Steve Rogers of the ‘30’s, I’m doing it for you.”  
Steve looked completely shocked. His eyes were almost comically wide. Bucky took a deep breath.  
“You gotta know that, Stevie. I’ve changed too. We can’t go back. I don’t want to go back.”  
“How can you- you don’t know what I’ve done. The Steve Rogers you’re waiting for? He’s been an assassin for seventy years. Killing people, Buck. Murdering people without a second thought. Not a good man, just a soldier. 

They sat next to each other for an unknown amount of time.  
“I think I want to be alone right now,” Steve asked softly, hesitantly, almost as if he expected Bucky to refuse.  
Bucky just nodded and make his exit non-disruptive as possible. He had a feeling neither of them were getting any sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> О Боже= My god
> 
> I would just like to say, I am so sorry for how long it's been since this last updated. A year and a half, I know. Thank you so much to the people who bookmarked, given kudos, and have left kind and supportive comments on this work. It means the world to me that people are still interested. This chapter is short, I know, but I've had it in the works for a while and I want to give you give you guys something to tell you that I'm still here. This work is not abandoned.
> 
> Pop by my tumblr to ask questions, harass me into writing, or just look at some nice, heartbreaking stucky stuff. shrinkclink.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Где я? = where am I?  
> Отойди , солдат = Stand down, Soldier.
> 
> You can find my at my tumblr, http://shrinkyclink.tumblr.com, where I cry about these two a lot.


End file.
